


nevernever

by driedvoices



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/F, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedvoices/pseuds/driedvoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the winter, Susan is paler than the frost, and more delicate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nevernever

In the winter, Susan is paler than the frost, and more delicate.

Lucy almost has to think twice about leaving bruises on the white expanses of skin there, like stomping a boot into a child's snow angel. Her cries are always sharp and unexpected, and they disappear as quickly as they come. They pierce Lucy like knives and she shudders, the echo running through her bones. She is like a bird and Lucy cradles her gently, with arms locked around her waist and a chin nestled in the crook of her neck. Susan smiles and pulls sheets around them, tracing feather-light patterns on Lucy's arm.

-

They are stretched out in front of a fire, with books and blankets and just enough wine to make them dizzy. They are all bony arms and awkward knees that don't quite fit into their majestic chairs yet, so they lie on the floor. They are vast and eternally bumping elbows with each other and the borders of the small space in which they are enclosed. They are miniscule and their voices carry and bounce against the walls and ceiling, no matter how low they whisper. They are warm, mostly, and that is enough to keep them half-asleep and smiling when the days outside are bitterly cold and make their eyes sting with wind. It's not so much that they are together, just alone with other people; people who share one half of yourself, people who are quiet because they already know everything that could be said.

"...do you ever think about going back?" Lucy asks sleepily, her eyelids heavy with alcohol and sweet-smelling smoke. Edmund wrinkles his nose and looks at Peter, who has one leg draped across Lucy's stomach and is snoring lightly.

"Why on Earth would you want to?" Susan smiles, and she is always beautiful, even with spots on her face that aren't all freckles and the way her dresses are too short a week after she has them made. Lucy almost tells her that they should really stop saying things like that, but Susan stretches and leans into her, and she forgets.

-

She forgets.

-

She doesn't really want to ride but Edmund begs and Peter pleads and Susan tickles and her breath tastes like coffee but her lips are sweet like they always are and Lucy submits. It's not so awful anyway, now that the snow has melted. The trees cast green shadows to hide in, and it's so easy to pretend to stop for breath and sneak kisses while the boys pretend not to look. The forests might be Lucy's favorite part of Narnia, aside from the sea. Some days you'll run into a Faun or a Bear and they'll invite you over for tea, but mostly it is quiet and solitary, with bluebirds singing softly as not to disturb passerby, and sunflowers seem to pop up in every spare corner of land and Susan's skin is soft and lush against the waxy leaves and she always laughs when Lucy picks grass out of her hair.

They leave everything in the woods when they find the lamp post, and Lucy remembers all too late.

-

England is always raining, raining, raining, all the time raining, and after the initial shock of it, Lucy begins to feel like she's wearing a damp, too-small sweater. She knows Edmund and Peter feel the same way, because they all crawl into the same bed at night, whispering memories that struggle to get away.

It's strange, seeing Susan so young. She's not young like she once was, though. Now she paints her lips red and comes home late. Sometimes Lucy waits up for her and most nights Susan doesn't come into their room.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks one night, eyes dark and wet like oil, but her gaze is hard and trained on Susan's face. She can smell the sex on her, but she would have guessed anyway. Her shirt is done up the wrong way and her hair is mussed in the back.

Susan chokes out a laugh that is more like a cough and shakes her head. "We're never going back, you know. As far as anyone's concerned it never happened." And she slams her body down on the bed and sobs; dry, heaving sighs that hurt Lucy to listen to. Susan allows herself to be petted and murmured to sleep, and right before she drops off, Lucy thinks she hears Susan whisper her love.

She wakes up alone and Mrs. Pevensie tells her that Susan went out early this morning. Lucy is not surprised.

-

It seems like she almost breathes smoke now, exhaling great grey clouds into Lucy's face anytime they talk. It's not a habit she could have picked up in Narnia, and, not for the first time, Lucy pulls a pillow over her head and pretends they never left. They're almost thirty now, and she expects Peter will be married and Edmund will be all smiles with lines around his eyes. Susan never gets less beautiful, but she is colder now, and Lucy always stops herself before the picture forms fully in her head.

Lucy tells her mother about the boys and the smoking and she has never seen any woman that furious. Susan comes home to a barrage of questions and accusations and she breaks down and cries in the middle of hoarse retorts, screaming when Mrs. Pevensie touches her arm. Lucy and Edmund watch from the staircase and hold each other tight.

Lucy feigns sleep that night when Susan opens the door, but no words are said anyway. Susan lies down, terrifyingly silent, and breathes shallowly. Lucy almost wishes that Susan would have hit her.

-

Susan does not leave the house any longer (they lock the doors).

Susan does not paint her face (they take away her lipstick).

Susan does not talk to boys (they watch her like hawks).

Susan does not buy cigarettes (they don't give her pocket money).

Susan smiles uncomfortably every night at dinner and she kisses Lucy's forehead before they go to sleep (they are shocked and confused).

-

"Why don't you believe me?" Lucy says, wetness running down her young, young face, making streaks in the grime of not bathing for days that she used to wear like warpaint. It is strange on this new face, this little girl, and Susan cannot handle her tears. "I know you would have in the old days."

"Just because we came back doesn't mean we're going to stay," she says, and turns her head. "Things have changed, Luce." She pulls away from the hand that reaches out to touch her arm, from the lips that search her face for some sign of weakness, of untruth. "Narnia doesn't mean _freedom_ , Lucy. It just makes it worse when we go back."

Lucy cannot bear to look at her.

-

Susan brushes Lucy's hair before she leaves for school, twisting it and plaiting it no matter how much Lucy winces underneath her. "Do you ever think about going back?" Lucy asks softly. "Hm?" Susan says around the bobby pins in her mouth, "Where, Lu?"

Lucy shakes her head and Susan raps her sharply with the brush. "There's magic coming, Susan," she murmurs, almost dreamily, "I can feel it. It's Narnia. It's calling us back."

Susan snorts. "Honestly, Lucy, you're still playing your little game? Are you ever going to grow up?"

"Once was enough," Lucy says, though she doubts Susan is listening.

-

"I don't ever want to lose this," Lucy whispers, staring at the very Narnian sun coming up over the trees.

"Don't be silly," Susan says, and kisses the corner of her mouth. "This is our home. It called us here. It won't ever leave us. Never."

Lucy curls closer into Susan's side and thinks _never_.


End file.
